


rush and disorder

by coruscantguard (nadiavandyne), nadiavandyne



Series: 2020 Fic Challenges [13]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Republic (Comics), Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Abuse, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, If You Thought The Head Trauma Was Bad..., Memory Loss, Migraine, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Quinlan doesn't actually show up but he's there in spirit, Rape/Non-con Elements, Ryloth - Freeform, Slavery, Uncle/Niece Incest, Whump, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:22:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26852140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nadiavandyne/pseuds/coruscantguard, https://archiveofourown.org/users/nadiavandyne/pseuds/nadiavandyne
Summary: Her Uncle says that this is her home. Says that this is where she belongs, that she was lost, and hurt, but now she's home, so it's better now.Aayla doesn't disbelieve him, it's just--Her head feels like it's full of fog, her lekku ache, and all the other dancers refuse to meet her eyes.
Relationships: Aayla Secura & Quinlan Vos, Implied Aayla Secura/Pol Secura
Series: 2020 Fic Challenges [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1810486
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	rush and disorder

**Author's Note:**

> Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. I am warning y'all right here, this one is very mean of me. In my defense, this is based off of a Legends canon storyline, so I didn't come up with it all on my own All you need to know is that Aayla and Quinlan both get their memories completely wiped in 31BBY, and Aayla's Uncle, Pol Secura, then kidnaps her. Throughout this kidnapping she is continuously forcibly drugged so that her memories don't come back.
> 
> Additional warnings are in the end notes.

Her Uncle says that this is her home. Says that this is where she belongs, that she was lost, and hurt, but now she's home, so it's better now.

Aayla doesn't disbelieve him, it's just--

Her head feels like it's full of fog, her lekku ache, and the other dancers refuse to meet her eyes.

It makes sense, she supposes, in some roundabout, twisted way. She was gone, and now she's back, which must be odd for them. But she doesn't know what she's done to earn their fear. They look at her like she's a ticking time bomb, a ship reactor about to explode, like one wrong word and she'll bring down the caves on all of their heads. Like she's powerful, _dangerous_ , and she doesn't know why they think that.

( _Think less, act more_ , a deep voice says in her head, chiding, amused, so faint that she barely hears it. _Trust your instincts, my P--)_

Some days, her head hurts so badly that she can barely remain on stage, that she stumbles over her feet and gets wrapped up in her chains. Some days, she's twitching so badly that she _can't_ go up on stage, that she shakes and shakes and shakes as her Uncle strokes her lekku and she tries not to cry.

She's not _dangerous_ , she's just... ill. According to Uncle Pol, at least.

The medicine he has her on is expensive, custom-made, and-- and she knows it's good for her, she _does_ , and she always feels better in the immediate aftermath of taking it, but then she always feels _so much worse_. _So much worse_ , and her Uncle gets that tight, pinched look of anger around here eyes whenever she brings up her discomfort, and--

And--

And she shouldn't think like that, shouldn't doubt him after everything he's done for her. After everything he's sacrificed.

( _Everything he **says** he's sacrificed_, that voice in her mind points out. That _traitorous_ voice in her mind points out, and she shoves it away.)

Her Uncle's sitting room is opulent, a sign of his high status in the Clans. She stands there now, with all of the other dancers set to perform tonight, as they wait for the doors to open.

"Aayla," Uncle Pol says suddenly from his place on a couch, and she looks up, sees him beckon. She goes. Of course she goes. Why wouldn't she?

( _Go where the Force tells you to_ , the voice says, smooth, reassuring, _let it guide your path_.)

"Drink this," he says when she reaches him, holding out a glass. The drink in it is a swirl of colors, dark blues and purples and shining greens.

Aayla almost asks him what it is, but manages to bite down on the question at the last second. She _wants_ to know, _wants_ to ask, but... her Uncle doesn't like it when she questions him.

Instead, she drinks.

"This is all for your own safety," her Uncle says as she chokes down the bitter taste, placing a hand on her lek, his grip just on the edge of too tight. She almost wants to protest, wants to throw the glass, wants to squirm away from the bruising grip, but--

But where would she go?

"Yes," she says quietly, and she wants to look down at the ground, or at least to close her eyes. The bright lights of her Uncle's room _hurt_ , and she longs to go, go back behind the bar to the nook that she'd found there a few weeks ago and go and curl up and hide. She wants to shut her eyes and try to stop the pounding in her head, wants her lekku to stop feeling like they've been hit with tranqs.

She doesn't do either of those things, though. "What should I do with the glass, Master?"

( _I can get a hint from the glass, if you can get it out of that slimeball's hands_ , she hears, and--

And--)

Something is urging her not to tell her Uncle about the memories. Aayla should tell him, she knows this, he's ordered her to, but something is stopping her, and--

She just... can't remember what it is.

**Author's Note:**

> \- Additional warnings: Implied rape/non-con of a minor, implied uncle/niece incest, mentioned underage sex work, non-consensual drugging, kidnapping of a minor, slavery, memory loss, abuse. Aayla is canonically 17 during this storyline, and while nothing is super explicit in this fic, there are a lot of implications. Continue at your own risk.
> 
> \- Happy Whumptober Day 6! I wrote all of this in Ao3's "work text" box without making any backup copies of it and I am SO thankful my computer didn't crash, holy shit. I really was playing with fire there, y'all.
> 
> \- Come talk to me on Tumblr [@coruscantguard!](https://coruscantguard.tumblr.com/)


End file.
